


Pieces in Their Games

by breakfastatmilliways, snuffy



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, The Yogscast
Genre: Angst, Blood, Canonical Character Death, Death, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Inspired by The Hunger Games, It's the Hunger Games of course there's death, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-03-17 09:40:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3524450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breakfastatmilliways/pseuds/breakfastatmilliways, https://archiveofourown.org/users/snuffy/pseuds/snuffy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ridgedog is the most promising new Gamemaker that the Capitol has seen in years, and this year's Hunger Games are shaping up to be one to remember. The question remains, though. Will these Hunger Games be remembered as famous... or infamous?</p><p>This story is going to get about as dark as you might expect from something Hunger Games related. There will be major character deaths. You have been warned.</p><p>-Indefinitely On Hold-</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. District 7

**District 7**

Zoey & Rythian

It was an almost impossibly beautiful day. The sky was a bright blue, broken up by just the right amount of fluffy white clouds, and at this early hour, the sun was shining a golden light through the roof of leaves above Rythian’s head. It wasn’t very appropriate thematically, but he wasn’t exactly surprised about the weather. Nature didn’t know what day it was, and this wouldn’t be the first Reaping to take place under such a clear sky. If this were a work of fiction, Rythian found himself thinking, he would be soaked with rain despite the canopy of the forest, rather than squinting against the ray of light that had just cut through the leaves to illuminate the branch he was currently seated on. And speaking of rays of light…

“Rythian!” Like all children in District 7, Zoey had grown up around tall lumber trees, and it showed in the way she nimbly scaled the tree without a conscious thought. Before Rythian could even respond with a greeting, she had reached his branch and plopped down on it beside him. A small part of Rythian wanted to tell her to go away, leave him to his thoughts and take that inappropriately huge grin with her. What was there to be grinning about today anyway? Saying any of this would be useless though, as he already knew how she would respond. In Zoey’s mind, there was always something to smile about. Instead of issuing any of his complaints, Rythian simply reached out to pull a twig out of Zoey’s somewhat unruly mess of scarlet hair.

“What are you doing up and out at this hour?” He questioned, well aware of the hypocrisy in doing so. He himself had been there since before the sun rose.  
“I had to talk with Barry and the others. They’re worried, you know? They wanted to know what would happen to them if I don’t come back. I told them they were being silly. They’re not baby spores, they’ll be alright. I don’t think they really believed me, though. Especially not Scotty, he says they’d be lost without me. Silly little mushrooms, yeah?” Rythian was only half listening to what Zoey was saying. He had long, long since grown accustomed to some of Zoey’s more… quirky aspects. The talk of conversations with mushrooms didn’t even phase him anymore.

What did phase him was the way she shifted about to get comfortable as she spoke, finally settling with her back leaned lightly against his arm, and her head resting on his shoulder. He was envious of how relaxed she was when he felt like he’d just been hit with some sort of paralysis potion. He was also incredibly thankful for the scarf that almost always covered the lower half of his face. No day was sacred for Zoey, and he didn’t know if he could handle even her gentle teasing about his horribly flushed cheeks.

“Rythian?” Broken out of his reverie, the boy turned at the uncharacteristically quiet voice of his companion, and had to marvel at just how close they were. He made a vague noise to show that he had heard her, and took the opportunity to study her features close up. Her eyes, which had been closed, popped open and met his gaze. For something that probably should have been a bit awkward, this simply felt like the most natural thing in the world. His eyes traveled down from hers to take in her lips, which she was currently biting, as if unsure of whether or not to finish what she had begun to ask.

“What is it, Zoey?” He questioned gently. This prompting was all it took to get her talking.

“If you’re chosen today… You’ll come home, won’t you?” The lack of confidence and optimism in her tone was incredibly disconcerting. Rythian may not have been the most positive person, but Zoey was meant to be, and he had to make sure it stayed that way.

“Of course I will. Don’t you worry about me, Zoey. Just worry about Scotty, he sounds like a real baby.” This earned Rythian a soft laugh, exactly as he had hoped it would. The moment of uncertainty was over, and soon enough Zoey was back to her bright, sunshiny self, telling him all about the drama of her little mushroom society.

In a few minutes, they would both have to go their separate ways. The Reaping was in an hour, and they had to look presentable for the cameras, as was customary. No matter what happened, this day was not going to be a pleasant one. For the moment, though, with a gentle breeze drifting through the leaves and Zoey’s voice in his ear, Rythian was content.

 

**District 12**

Nano

“NANO. Nano! You always sleep in!” Nano groaned softly and rolled on her front, pushing her hair from her face as she faced the sun filtering in through her window. Sun. It wasn’t usually sunny, especially not in 12 – when it wasn’t raining, the smoke billowing from the steam trains obscured the sky next to her family’s house, situated practically on top of the mines.

The voice waking her up and the hands shaking her belonged to her younger sister, Aria. She sat up and looked at the girl, eyes flicking over the outfit she was wearing when she realised something.

White dress. Her hair was curled into ringlets using rags and her cheeks were slightly flushed with a mixture of excitement and fear; they wouldn’t get picked, Nano always reassured her. Her sister had been in the Reaping for two years and they would always have a small celebration slash moment of silence for the fact that they weren’t being put to their death, but also the fact that somebody from their town would most likely be gone forever.

Being from 12 was a death sentence in itself, after all.

She shooed her sister out of the room so she could get changed into her best silk dress. They never wore nice clothes because the smoke would ruin them and anybody living close to the mines would go around with a thin grey layer of dark smoke on them throughout the entire day as soon as they left the house. Trains pulled by coal-powered steam engines constantly left and entered the mines with loads of coal and miners, taking their shifts and swapping them over. Nano’s family had worked on trains since the first days of 12 and for that, Nano had a pretty good collection of burns from the hot engines and a great deal of strength for her small stature.

When she headed into the dining room to get some breakfast (despite not being hungry), finding that they were having a somewhat extravagant meal for their breakfast. They always did – today was sugary porridge with a dollop of homemade jam thrown in. They weren’t incredibly hard done for in her house, but Nano always needed to take tesserae for her family. Herself, her mother, her father, sister and youngest brother, still only a toddler. She booped him on the nose as she walked to her seat, noticing that when her sister stood up to get more sugar, Aria was taller than her.

She felt somebody touching her hair and looked up, smiling when she saw that Aria was threading Hibiscus flowers in her hair. She didn’t question where she’d got them from. “Thanks, Aria. They’re so pretty,” she tucked her hair behind her ear, starting to pick at the porridge. She wasn’t hungry, despite how good it tasted. She was worried. Aria didn’t take tesserae but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a horrible risk of her being reaped by the smarmy man from the Capitol, stuck in a district he certainly didn’t want. It was his job to pick out winners and he never did. Last year was a 12 year old boy, barely even strong enough to lift a hammer. He died within a day.

When she looked at Aria, a small, sickly girl who seemed to catch everything going and was still recovering from a virus that had wiped out so many young girls and women, she could barely block out the idea of red blood splattering that white dress.

**District 9**

Nilesy & Panda

“Nilesy would you calm down? I’m sure he’s around here somewhere. We’ve got to go.” Panda wasn’t entirely sure why he was bothering. His friend had never been a morning person, and between that and the general stress of the day, Nilesy couldn’t really be blamed for having gone a little bit nutty. The fact of the matter, though, was that they were going to be late, and Panda wasn’t really keen on the idea of getting a beating off of the Peacekeepers.

“You can talk! Where’s Marmite, eh? Safe at home. I can’t go without finding Lyndon, what if I never see him again? He left a half digested rat on my shoe last night, and I yelled at him. I yelled at him! He’s a fuckin’ cat, he doesn’t know any better!” He was beginning to sound slightly manic, and the image of him kicking through the tall fields of grain, occasionally mumbling ‘Here kitty kitty’ as he did certainly wasn’t helping with the whole ‘manic’ thing.

Panda was suddenly a bit relieved that they were running late. For once there were no Peacekeepers breathing down their necks here in the fields. Nilesy would have been fucking dead if they’d seen the way he was treating the wheat. That grain was worth considerably more to Panem than one kid’s life.

“Nilesy, please, can we just-“ He was cut off by a yowl as Nilesy scooped a rather displeased looking Lyndon up into his arms. If the fact that the cat seemed to be trying his very best to turn into water and flow out of Nilesy’s grip was any indication, Lyndon was in no mood to be held. Then again, when has a cat ever wanted attention on anything other than his own terms? After a few calming words from Nilesy, though, the cat seemed to chill right on out, eventually settling into his arms, and even purring. “That’s a weird fucking cat you have, you know that?” Nilesy’s mood seemed immensely lifted now as well, and he looked up with a small smile.

“Yeah. He’s fuckin’ insane, he is. Who’s daddy’s loony little boy, eh?” His smile widened as he scratched the cat under the chin, resulting in an even louder burst of purrs. He buried his face in the cat’s fur, and Panda knew without having to ask that he was mostly doing it to keep from visibly losing his cool. He’d found his cat! It was fine. Everything was fine.

After a few long moments, he set Lyndon down again, watching as the cat rubbed against his legs and then scampered back into the wheat. He was silent for a second, before turning to look at Panda.

“Come on then, what’s the hold up? We’re going to be late!” He announced in a scolding voice, before running off through the field in the direction of the Justice Building. Panda snorted and took off after him, yelling empty threats about how the various ways he’d kill him for all this trouble if they both made it through the Reaping.

**District 3**

Lalna

One more wire here, a careful soldering there, and-

“Lalna?” The boy jumped upon hearing his name accompanied by a quiet knock, nearly sending the hard drive he had been working on tumbling off of the table. He shoved his goggles up onto his forehead and rubbed at his eyes blearily. If his mother was awake, that meant he had lost track of time again. It was morning. She didn’t normally wake him in quite such a pleasant manner, though. Her voice and knock had both been subdued, almost as if-

“We’ve got to report to the Justice Building in twenty minutes. Please tell me that you’re clean and dressed.”

Of course. It was the day of the Reaping. Lalna frequently lost himself in his work, but he had to admit, this was a first. He’d never been so invested as to forget about the Reaping before.

“Yeah, mum! I’m just… just finishing up. I’ll be down in a moment!” He called back through the door, scrambling to change. He didn’t pay much attention to what he was putting on; anything was better than what he had been wearing for going on twenty four hours now. He realized as soon as he got downstairs and saw his mother’s face that he really hadn’t done an adequate job tidying himself up. She was up and flitting around him in seconds, tucking in his shirt, straightening his collar, and finally reaching up to tug his goggles off of his head.

“You cannot wear these to the Reaping. Imagine how the Peacekeepers would react, you showing up in bloody work clothes.” She pocketed the goggles, and Lalna didn’t protest. Those were like an extension of his own body, he wore them so frequently, and it felt wrong to have them taken away like that, but he wasn’t about to put even more stress on his poor mother. Not when she looked so close to tears. Not with the odds that they both knew he had.

They were doing well enough, now that Lalna was old enough to do odd jobs for the neighbors, but for most of his teen years, Lalna had to take out tesserae to help support his large family, and they had added up. With the new stipulation that boys would be up for choosing not once but twice this year, well… Lalna wasn’t particularly optimistic that he would be back that evening to finish the work he had started.

**District 1**

Ross

You know what Ross was going to miss the most, he’d decided that morning? His car. As a Career, he knew full well that he would be going into the games soon. It wasn’t even a question of what if. Yet out of everything in District 1, it was the damn car that he was feeling the most soppy about.

It wasn’t even his car, of course. Even the mayor wasn’t allowed a car of that caliber. He was merely supposed to be working on prettying up her interior for sale to some lucky bastard in the Capitol, and after having her for quite some time, he’d become quite attached to her.

He kept finding excuses to keep her for just a bit longer.

“The leather interior really isn’t on par with the rest of the vehicle, give me a few more days.”

“I had a small accident with the bedazzler. Don’t worry I can fix it!”

“Oh, you’re here for the car? Well, eat shit. What? No sorry, that was a sneeze. I’m allergic to leather polish, you know how it is.”

There were no more excuses, though. This car was no longer his responsibility. As a tribute, his only job was to try to win, and someone else would take over for him here. Even if he made it to the end, she wouldn’t be there waiting for him.

“This is it, then. You’ve been wonderful, beautiful.” A quick glance around to make sure he was well and truly alone, and he leaned down to plant a peck on the car’s hood before quickly straightening up to give her a much more dignified pat. “I’ll come back for you if I can. Promise.”

**District 2**

Sips

With his short, stocky frame and oddly ashen skin, Sips knew that he was far from the usual picture of a career tribute. Not like any of the other District 2 tributes in his memory, and certainly not like Strippin', the other candidate for this year’s Games. Strippin' was a fucking Adonis, and to be honest, it kind of pissed Sips off. The rules had been adjusted this year to account for a particularly unpleasant disease that was only effecting the women of the Districts, and that meant that Sips and Strippin would both be going into the arena this year. Strippin' had looks, physical ability, and charm. There would be no real competition in terms of who would be getting the most sponsors. Or you know, any sponsors.

Sips was kind of funny looking, and the opposite of charming, unless you consider a weird ass obsession with dirt and monotonous obscenities to be charming. His only hope of winning, he knew, was by catching people off guard, and trying to form an alliance as early as he could. He was no slouch in the combat department, but with other careers in the game that could easily team up against him, he would really need all the help he could get.

Maybe a sexy lady who happened to be beast with a sword or nunchucks.

Yeah, now that would be pretty fantastic.

**District 10**

Lomadia & Honeydew

Lomadia was, as usual, up with the sun. Her family ran one of District 10’s many chicken farms, and it was impossible to sleep past dawn with the roosters crowing. Not that she would have had any trouble waking even if they weren’t so loud. She had slept fitfully the night before, just as she had on the eve of every Reaping. Today she would either be sentenced to a probable death, or watch two of her good friends do the same.

Lomadia was well liked within the District, and while that was something she usually enjoyed, right now it just meant that she had far too many friends that she stood a chance at losing in the near future. The epidemic that had rushed through Panem this year had taken enough of a toll on their community without losing two more young people.  
She got to her feet and shoved on her boots before running out of the small shack she shared with her family. Reaping day or not, there were still chores to be done and the chickens still needed feeding. When she arrived at the small yard in which they were kept, however, she found the job already being done.

Honeydew had been friends with Lomadia for as long as she could remember. They were neighbors, and frequently did each other favors and helped out with chores when it was needed. Lomadia didn’t remember asking for any help today, though, and yet there was Honeydew, scattering grain along the ground for the clucking flock.

“Honeydew? Why on Earth are you feeding my chickens at-” She glanced at the very old analogue watch that had been handed down to her from her grandmother, frowning as she tried to make out what it said behind the cracked glass. “-half five in the morning? Actually, strike that. Why are you feeding my chickens at all?”

The short, somewhat portly boy looked up at her, clearly just noticing her arrival. “Hello, friend! Couldn’t sleep. I already fed the pigs and Granny Bacon’s cows. Figured I’d give the old girl one last gun show at least.” He followed this statement up by flexing, and Lomadia snorted.

“Yeah, sure. Her asking for your help never has a thing to do with the fact that she’s getting up there and her arthritis makes it hard to carry buckets.” She replied dryly, before joining Honeydew in the yard. “C’mon then, if you’re going to do my work for me, you might as well help me collect eggs too.”

The two friends fell into a comfortable silence as they finished up their chores. It was almost as if their lives weren’t about to turn to utter shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah. This was an amalgamation of the first few parts - we'll be getting the rest of the 'district intros' up (and a list of who's in what for your ease!) and then get into the reaping ;)
> 
> Let us know what you think! I'd love to hear ideas, too.


	2. Chapter 2

**District 4**  
Trottimus

Sometimes, Trott found himself wondering what would happen if he just took one of the boats and rowed out to sea. Not one of the good ones, of course... his family and friends needed the boats, and even as an idea he was only toying with, he wasn't about to do anything that would threaten their livelihood. Just one of the old rowboats that would soon be torn apart for scraps, to be re-purposed into newer boats.

Thinking like this was nothing but a silly fantasy, anyway. While he had never known anyone to attempt it in his lifetime, he'd heard stories of those who tried to escape from their and other Districts. It never did end well for them, or their families. Besides, old or not, he rather had a feeling that the peacekeepers wouldn't be particularly keen on the idea of him taking one of the boats. Any boat thief would be lucky if they survived long enough to be made an example of.

Still, the daydream was helping a lot to quell Trott's nerves as he sat on the dock, his bare feet hanging over the edge to dip in the seawater. The ocean was just so vast... surely if one kept going long enough, even the grabby hands of the Capitol wouldn't be able to pull them back? He flopped back on the warm wooden planks beneath him in order to look up at the sky in an effort to gauge how much time he had left. The positioning of the sun told him rather clearly that he did not have time to do what he was about to do, but that didn't stop him from doing it. Sitting back up, he peeled off his shirt and dropped it onto the dock beside him before sliding fully into the cool water below.

Swimming came naturally to the residents of his district, they were taught from such a young age, and he was going to make damn well sure that he enjoyed what might be his last opportunity for a dip. There was a strong possibility that there would be bodies of water in the arena, but even then the line would probably be drawn at a large pond or a small lake. Nothing like the endless expanse of salt water that he was currently splashing around in. And there was always the chance that the arena would be something more akin to an arid wasteland where water was scarce, or even a tundra full of solid ice. The gamemakers behind the Games he had seen throughout his childhood had been creative in their settings, to say the least.

Taking a deep breath, he submerged himself entirely, cutting off the sounds of his friends and neighbors already bustling around in their hurries to ready for the Reaping. It might have been pointless, considering the fact that the majority of Four's tributes were volunteers that were known of well in advance, but all of the children had to show up nonetheless. He stayed under for quite some time, not entirely ready to face the world above the surface again yet.

When he finally did come up for air, it was just in time to find himself face to face with his father, who was carrying a pile of clean clothes, and really didn't look entirely pleased with him. Trott flashed a winning grin in an attempt at diffusing the tension, but his father just sighed, shaking his head.

“Trottimus, what the hell are you doing out here? You look a mess.” He pronounced in a long-suffering tone. “There's no time for you to bathe so you'll just have to dry off and go as is.” Trott nodded, suddenly feeling quite apologetic as he hoisted himself out of the water and took the towel that his father offered him, doing his best to dry himself as thoroughly as possible before ducking behind a barrel to change into the fresh clothes he had been given.

His father still didn't seem terribly happy when he came back out fully dressed, but that wasn't really a surprise. His father hadn't seemed terribly happy about anything for some time. Not since the rules of the reaping had been changed, and Trott had gone from being something of an emergency backup volunteer to being guaranteed a place in that year's Games.

Trott must have lost himself in his own thoughts, because he found himself starting to attention again as his father clasped a hand on his shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. The two exchanged thin smiles, although it was obvious that neither meant to convey any sort of happiness. Without another word, his father let go and turned to walk down the dock in the direction of the Justice Building.

Trott, for his part, turned his gaze back on the ocean for one long moment, staring at the calm rippling of the waves. Then he turned and followed swiftly after his father, without looking back.

 

 **District 11**  
Sjin and Parvis

The sun was high in the sky when Sjin heard the whistle indicating the end of their work – he straightened his back, cracked it, leant back on the rake he’d been holding. It was too early to end – he felt like he could, for once, let this day go on forever. It was the last day before the Reaping, and ever so kindly they were granted some extra time with their families. Sjin wasn’t too close to his family. Of course he had one, but it was pretty jam-packed with kids. Not just his parent’s, but they were poor – cousins and other extended family whose names he didn’t even know lived there, right now. Sjin could hardly sleep for having his beard tugged on or his face kicked by the foot of some kid he’d never met. His mother was just too welcoming. It didn’t matter that they could hardly afford to feed themselves, let alone all of the kids running about demanding food, but it was hard to say no to desperate faces and crying family members who had no home to speak of because they simply couldn’t afford it.

All of the kids who were old enough to be entered had taken out tesserae, but this was Sjin’s last year. He didn’t want to know how many times his name was in. He’d resigned himself to being picked and his mother had said his goodbyes to him long ago, unable to look him in the eye as she fed a half-hearted gruel to a child who desperately needed more. Sjin just had to do well. His family would at least be supported then, even if he didn’t win the grand prize – they could survive without him. He was well liked in the district for being handsome, friendly and charming – and he had a damn good beard for an 18 year old. Most people mistook him for somebody much older and one of his friends, Parvis, was absolutely convinced he was actually a lot older. He found the slim man at the end of the field, waving and receiving one in turn.

“Parv,” he smiled weakly, and Parv only nodded in response, his cheeks pale. They both knew what was coming and for once, the usually chatty pair headed back to their homes in silence, Parv giving him a quick hug as they parted ways on the corner separating their homes.

 

 **District 6**  
Benji

Most of the kids in the various districts had their own ways of dealing with an upcoming, but denial had always suited Benji just fine. He had spent the week working on the engines with his mentor, the both of them concentrating entirely on their work and rather pointedly ignoring the subject of what was coming. It was a coping method that they had employed every year that Benji had been in the older man's care, even before Benji had turned twelve and become eligible himself. It was easy enough to pretend it didn't really effect them. Benji had no family to speak of, and neither did the old man. They were all each other had, really. So long as Benji made it through another year's reaping, they would be fine, as always.

“Benj, I appreciate all your help today, I honestly do, but... It's time to go get yourself cleaned up, wouldn't you say?” The hesitation was more than audible in the old man's voice, and Benji knew very well that he was only speaking at all because Benji himself wasn't making any moves to leave. He wished that the capitol would just forget about him. He was one kid- would it really make a difference? He spent so much of his time working on the trains that he didn't even really have friends. No one would miss him- he was hardly the ideal person to use as an example by the Capitol.

“Yeah, alright. Don't want you getting in trouble with the peacekeepers just because I'm a bit late, eh?” He responded with a sigh, setting down his wrench and shoving a somewhat oil caked clump of prematurely graying hair out of his eyes. He was rather a mess of oil stains and sweat, and part of him wondered what would happen if he just showed up the way he was. Just imagining the expression on the face of the fancy man or woman from the capitol who would be drawing their names was enough to make him snicker under his breath and actually consider the idea.

Even as he headed into the shack that he and the old man shared, he was still laughing to himself at the picture in his head. The punishment would almost be worth it.

 

**District 12 (Again)**   
Xephos

Xephos hadn’t seen his face in a while, actually.

Of course, he had, but he hadn’t seen it without it being coated in soot. Warm baths were a luxury and cold baths were a death sentence, so they settled for a quick wash that didn’t involve wiping soot off of their faces. He had one of many of the more demeaning jobs, being a Seam child. Mostly, he shovelled coal into the trains that took it away from the Capitol – when he was younger, he would be sent down into the mines to clear out the tight tunnels they sent the minecarts down. He hated tight places, but young kids were the only ones who would fit down them, so they had sent Xephos.

And now here he was – ten years later, he was just another kid due to have around 70 chances at getting his name thrown in the Hunger Games. He wasn’t betting on his chances, but he had less of a chance than the families with a ton of kids in, at least – his tesserae was just for his mother and his father. Xeph had been an accident and he was well aware of that fact, but at least he wasn’t ostracised like so many kids were. His parents had actually taken to look after him and he didn’t have it bad, he just didn’t have it great. And he could deal with that.

Speaking of the devil, his mother stepped behind him with her constant worried frown, gently reaching out to smooth down the dress shirt he was wearing, a hand-me-down from his father. “Xephos,” she sighed softly, reaching out to lick her fingers and drag a piece of hair into place. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. Right? You’re not going to be picked,” she nodded to herself, as if cementing the fact in her own mind.

Xephos wasn’t so sure, to be completely honest, but he turned to her with a smile that lit up his eyes, pulling her into a hug. He hadn’t realised how much taller than her he was – tall and skinny, she only came up to his shoulder at this point. “I’ll be fine, mum,” he smiled softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead as she inhaled sharply, holding back a sob. He felt like the roles should have been reversed, but he was fine. Even if he did get picked, he’d accepted his early death a long time ago. Years of living on the edge of starvation kind of did that to a person.

 

 **District 5**  
Alsmiffy and Will Strife

“My god, man. Do you take a damn thing seriously?” This was far from the first time that Will had lectured Smith, and it showed absolutely no sign of sticking this time either. The tall, gangly boy had never taken his much more solemn acquaintance's advice, and really, why should he start on it now? There was a very good chance that one or even both of them would be sentenced to death in but a few short hours, so was it really the time to start trying to make changes to his life view? Certainly fucking not.

This time, he was being scolded for not being adequately concerned about the reaping. Will had been yammering on in his ear the entire time they were waiting in line to be identified by the Peacekeepers, and Smith had mostly managed to tune out the necessary wisdom. Still, when Will had brought up the fact that he should have prepared his younger sisters more for the idea that he might not be coming home (an admittedly valid point, as Smith really was the only one old enough to help their parents with the breadwinning), he couldn't help but respond with a snide, “I dunno. Don't think they'll really miss me, actually. I'm kind of a pain in the ass.”

“Are you fucking serious Smiffy? This isn't funny. Any one of us could actually die. Does that not get to you at all?” Will seemed absolutely flabbergasted by this, but Smith couldn't really figure out why he was so surprised. The two had been in the same year for their classes as long as they could remember, and while they had never been what one would really call friends, they had interacted and argued plenty. Will really should have known better.

“Nah, mate, I'm not, but you know if you'd only accept my advances, I could be fucking serious. Or at least, the personification of seriousness.” He wiggled his eyebrows at Will in a flirtatious manner as he spoke, the huge grin on his face not breaking even as he stepped forward to get his finger pricked for the DNA identification. He was only slightly disappointed that he didn't get more than a quick glance at Will's horrified expression in response.

Will was most likely fuming for the next few minutes, as he stayed completely silent while they made their way over to the section for boys their age, every one of them standing and staring up at the front of the Justice Building attentively. Or at least, almost every one of them. Will was glaring pointedly at Smith, having seemingly forgotten to take their situation seriously himself as he spoke to him in a low hiss. “That coming on to me thing? It wasn't funny when you first did it, and it definitely isn't funny now. You know if you pull that crap and we happen to get chosen, it might just bite us both in the ass? I don't want to be stuck acting out some tragic gay love story with you for the sake of sponsors.”  
“Aw, really Strifey? But I'll bet you it'd get us the best fuckin' sponsors. Bit of an 'in the closet' panic, a quick snog, we'd have them wrapped around our fingers.” Smith couldn't really help himself. Shaking with silent laughter at just how annoyed his little act had successfully made Will, he turned and gave him an overtly flirtatious wink, making a show of biting his lower lip as he did so.

Before Will could even begin to think about responding, the woman from the Capitol stepped daintily before the crowd, and everyone, Alsmiffy included, fell completely silent. There was only so far bravado could take him, and while he wouldn't have admitted it out loud, right then...? Right then, Smith was pretty much scared shitless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here's the District listings for the fic! The (?) indicates a character that will not be named, but may possibly be a cameo from a non-Yogscast youtuber.
> 
> District 1 (Luxury Items): Ross and (?)  
> District 2 (Masonry): Sips and Strippin'  
> District 3 (TV and Computers): Lalna and (?)  
> District 4 (Fishing): Trott and (?)  
> District 5 (Power and Electricity): Alsmiffy and Will Strife  
> District 6 (Transportation): Benji and (?)  
> District 7 (Lumber): Zoey and Rythian  
> District 8 (Textiles and Clothing): GameChap and Bertie  
> District 9 (Grain): Nilesy and Panda  
> District 10 (Livestock): Lomadia and Honeydew  
> District 11 (Agriculture): Sjin and Parv  
> District 12 (Coal): Nano and Xephos
> 
> Now that this is out of the way, we can actually get down to business! If you're wondering where the part for GameChap and Bertie is... It does not exist. It will never exist. Nope.


	3. The Gamemaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to meet the man who's running the show.

He was expected to fail.

He was surprisingly fine with that fact.

The thing was, when you were as young as he was in such a position of power, you were expected to be amazing. You were expected to have a world of experience on your shoulders and overall, you were expected to be cold and calculating. They simply didn’t know him yet, and that was something he could accept. They would come to know him – perhaps not even as a household name. He would prefer otherwise, in fact. He would prefer to be the silent antagonist in the background, a puppet master pulling at strings.

The thing many people didn’t understand about being the Gamemaker was that you had to comprehend _games_.

There were many different types of games, and the Hunger Games was just another game with another set of rules. Many viewed it as a game of chess, with their favourites as the more interesting pieces – Queens, Kings and Knights, and the ones who scored lower in the Private Sessions were merely pawns in this chessboard with no lines.

However, in his opinion? It was a different sort of game. It was nothing more than greedy overlords betting on the rabid animals tearing each other apart so that they would be the ones to live. It was a dog fight with no rules for the creatures in the Arena. The rules were only for the creators of the game and those betting on the outcome, but in all honesty, there was never a winner. That wasn’t how this particular game was designed. Sure, the one who came out on top after murdering their fellow contestants would get rewarded – they would have a nice house, the fame and glory of winning and of course, the honour of training next year’s competitors, but what did that make them? They were nothing but rabid beasts tearing at each other’s throats in the end. The winner was always designed to be the Capitol, the trophy was always under the ownership of the President. As long as the people of Minecraftia stayed in line, order would be kept and the annual dog fights would continue.

It interested Ridgedog how little humans cared for each other’s lives as soon as they were given the opportunity to kill.

 

**Name:** Ross

**Age:** 18

**District:** 1

**Observations:** Volunteer. Ross seems brash and confident in himself. He was among the loudest to volunteer, hence why he was chosen. He seems physically fit and overall quite able, as are most careers. Oddly hairy.

 

**Name:** [REDACTED]

**Age:** [REDACTED]

**District:** 1

**Observations:** [REDACTED]

**Name:** Sips

**Age:** 18

**District:** 2

**Observations:** Volunteer, but unusual for a career. He is not attractive, short and stocky as opposed to tall and lean. Perhaps has body strength but seems almost…grey. Anaemic, perhaps? Must look into health records. That could be interesting. Seems much less confident and speaks in a monotone voice. One to keep an eye on.

 

**Name:** Strippin

**Age:** 18

**District:** 2

**Observations:** Volunteer. Typical career, attractive and fit. Will likely do well with sponsors and other contestants.

 

**Name:** Lalna

**Age:** 17

**District:** 3

**Observations:** Tribute. Tall but heavily built but otherwise seems somewhat unnoticeable. Handsome, perhaps, but not in a sense that sponsors would get excited about. His personality seems amiable, though.

 

**Name:** [REDACTED]

**Age:** [REDACTED]

**District:** 3

**Observations:** [REDACTED]

**Name:** Trott

**Age:** 18

**District:** 4

**Observations:** Volunteer. Short but well muscled and somewhat handsome. Sponsors will probably like him, the other contestants likely not so much. Not sure on whether he’d be career status.

 

**Name:** [REDACTED]

**Age:** [REDACTED]

**District:** 4

**Observations:** [REDACTED]

**Name:** Smiffy

**Age:** 18

**District:** 5

**Observations:** Tribute. Tall and lanky, probably can’t lift much. Not seen tributes from 5 bring many personal skills in but that could always change. Probably have to do something to make him more interesting, though.

 

**Name:** Will Strife

**Age:** 18

**District:** 5

**Observations:** Tribute. Frighteningly deep voice. Could prove popular with sponsors but he seems to have a prickly attitude.

**Name:** Benji

**Age:** 16

**District:** 6

**Observations:** Tribute. Early greying – could be an interesting memorable point, if he has a personality equally as memorable. Again, 6 never seems to bring many skills in but could be good with machinery.

**Name:** [REDACTED]

**Age:** [REDACTED]

**District:** 6

**Observations:** [REDACTED]

**Name:** Zoeya

**Age:** 17

**District:** 7

**Observations:** Tribute. Interesting to note: the male Tribute from this district volunteered in place of this Tribute, but her name was chosen after. She still seemed happy and made to hold his hand, but he pulled away. Interesting relationship.

**Name:** Rythian

**Age:** 18

**District:** 7

**Observations:** Volunteered for another Tribute, who then had her name drawn. Seems somewhat brooding but judging by his reactions when her name was pulled again, it’s likely just a show.

**Name:** [REDACTED]

**Age:** [REDACTED]

**District:** 8

**Observations:** [REDACTED]

**Name:** [REDACTED]

**Age:** [REDACTED]

**District:** 8

**Observations:** [REDACTED]

**Name:** Nilesy

**Age:** 17

**District:** 9

**Observations:** Tribute. Overall weak-looking and nothing of note.

**Name:** Panda

**Age:** 16

**District:** 9

**Observations:** Tribute, one of the younger this year. Again, seemed to know other Tribute chosen, which could prove for interesting relationships throughout these Games.

**Name:** Lomadia

**Age:** 18

**District:** 10

**Observations:** Tribute. Looks very confident in herself – almost like a career. Tall-ish and well-built. Could prove to be a dark horse in this competition.

**Name:** Honeydew

**Age:** 17

**District:** 10

**Observations:** Tribute. Incredibly small, incredibly bad at hiding his emotions. Seemed incredibly worried at being chosen.

**Name:** Sjin

**Age:** 17

**District:** 11

**Observations:** Tribute. Tall and slim but has some muscle definition. Despite being seventeen, has a full-blown beard. Likely to prove popular with sponsors.

**Name:** Parv

**Age:** 16

**District:** 11

**Observations:** Tribute. Somewhat small and slim, looks like a regular teenager.

**Name:** Nano

**Age:** 16

**District:** 12

**Observations:** Tribute. Has family that were distressed at her being chosen, but she ignored them. Small and unsuspecting but holds herself as confidently as a Career would.

**Name:** Xephos

**Age:** 17

**District:** 12

**Observations:** Tribute. Tall, lanky and with a beard coming in again – what is it with hairy Tributes this year? Quite a nice looking coat, possibly from a well-off family, which could mean he’s unused to doing work. Seems much more reserved than most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...We do love Nilesy, I promise.


End file.
